


Under My Skin

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel/Demon AU, Baby's first porn, Bottom Dean, Demon Castiel, M/M, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The demon cowers before him, its soul twisted unrecognizably. It is not human anymore, but he feels no remorse for it; it chose its own path. That is how he justifies it to himself when he lowers his hand onto its forehead and burns it out of the body in which it lives.</i>
</p>
<p> <i>“Well done, Dean,” comes a mocking voice from the shadows, and his back stiffens because he knows that voice well. “You’ve murdered another one.”<i></i></i></p>
<p> The Angel of the Lord once known as <i>Dean<i></i></i> encounters his former lover, Castiel, now a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under My Skin

He spreads out his wings in a show of dominance, the sharp edges of his feathers biting into the cold night air like knives. His eyes shine bright with Grace, hand gripping his blade in a child’s fist. Light bathes him, the proof of his Father’s love shining above his head in what mortals called haloes. In truth, it is a star, his own star- it is what the mortals call Zubeneschamali, The Northern Claw. The name his Father gave it is unpronounceable to humans, _Ar Daas Rshe’nne Dazo`diz er Denu._ He supposes what the mortals call it is enough.

 

The demon cowers before him, its soul twisted unrecognizably. It is not human anymore, but he feels no remorse for it; it chose its own path. That is how he justifies it to himself when he lowers his hand onto its forehead and burns it out of the body in which it lives.

 

“Well done, Dean,” comes a mocking voice from the shadows, and his back stiffens because he knows that voice well. “You’ve murdered another one.”

 

“That’s not my name,” he says, slow and sure. It is not his name _._ The name his father gave is not the shortened, bastardized version this _thing_ spews out its mouth. He knows, however, that to deny it was the wrong thing to do, and that it’s about to come and bite him on the ass.

 

“Oh, it’s not?” smirks the thing. “That isn’t the name I screamed over the Heavens as you fucked me? As you whispered _sweet nothings_ into my ears, as you took me on battlefields where all our brethren could see? You’re _not_ Dean, leader of a thousand battles, the one whom Our _dear_ Father sought to congratulate personally-“

 

The thing stops when it finds its back to the wall, pushes up hard against the ragged edges of the brick. “You are not _worthy_ to say his name,” he snarls at the thing. “Not you, who betrayed us all for _Samael,_ who flung yourself down into the depths of Hell for _Par Csrm ol Conssa ge Do’oine Esi’asa`case_ , you who tricks and lies and _sins_.” He pretends not to notice the way that the demon’s body presses against his, the hard line of his shaft pressed against his leg.

 

The thing has been chasing him for a while, whispering this name that is so close to his real one but yet not right. It leaves a bitter taste when the name slip-slides out of the demon’s mouth, because the thing is possessive, trying to take the place of his Father as the only thing that he loves- but it also feels right. It scares him, although he knows logically that he should have no fear, for God is with him always.

 

It is tricky, though, and always seems to catch him off guard. There was the time in the place that was Byzantium, the one in Achaea (what did the mortals call it now? Greece, that was it), and when they had met in Britain. But they were never as close then as they were now, he hadn’t felt its form pressed against him like this for millenia.

 

It smiles at him when it realises what he already knows; they are together like they were lovers.

 

Except they’re not.

 

The thing’s smile doesn’t reach its eyes, but he never expected it to anyway. After all, what use do dead things have for emotions? He traps its hands before it can use them, because he sees one creeping towards him, but that may be a mistake. He hadn’t expected that move to bring him so close to the creature’s mouth, the maw that is simultaneously a fanged mess of black ooze and the pink almost lips that look so much like the form of the angel this creature used to be.

 

It does not disgust him as he though it would, when it catches his lips with its own. Though it tastes like rot and dirt, when their tongues move together it rests a place within him that he never thought was awake. Although he is doubtful his body is not- as if on autopilot, it slams the demon up against the wall harder than ever, so that every part is touching. So he can feel the hard lines of muscle writhing underneath him, _god_ -

 

The thought, using his Father’s name in vain breaks something inside him and he goes _wild_. His hands are everywhere, and the demon’s clothes are on the ground in a pile like they were never even on, and the tie around his neck is stifling him. His breath comes out in little hitches, except for when he can’t help but to breathe out "Cas, _Cas_.” And then the tie is gone, and so is his shirt, the belt from his pans are gone and the zip is down and, and-

 

And he’s pressed up against the wall now, the things- _Cas’s-_ hands holding him up as he bite’s at Dean’s ear and he gives up the control he has in favour of letting Cas manhandle him. He lets his wings settle over them both, the sharp metal reflecting back Zubeneschamali’s light until it seems that they’re back in Heaven. It feels like Heaven. Cas’s fingers are at his rim, his pants cast off with his socks and shoes, and they’re the best thing he’s ever felt. All his father’s love, everything is second only to the harsh bites at his collarbone and the feeling of Cas’s cock pressing against him.

 

He remembers, now, what he did not before, and he laughs harshly.

 

“What is it?” asks Cas, curious, even as he begins to push himself inside Dean. Cas is the strangest demon, but Dean knew he would be.

 

“I’d forgotten, I can’t believe I’d forgotten, you feel so good, _fuck_ …” It had been too long since Cas was in him like this, as they rush to completion. They both feel the urgency, the need to finish before they are caught, but Dean finds himself not wanting to give this up. Demons couldn’t love, but Dean’s Grace doesn’t know that, and it seeks out its mate.

 

Dean braces himself for nothingness. No one had ever connected their Grace to a demon’s before- no one would _want_ to- but one could not be damned with the divine underneath their skin. But as soon as it reaches Cas, the demon comes with one last hard thrust, hitting Dean’s prostate dead on until he sees stars with the force of his own orgasm.

 

The Grace that he finds in Cas, that his own Grace twines around, is not the same Grace that Dean had seen last. It is in tatters, filthy and torn, but his own still sings to it, and it sings its own song back. Cas holds him up tenderly- too tenderly for a demon- and croons to him, “are you still your Father’s man, _Dean_?”

 

And he isn’t. He tightens his grip around Cas’s shoulders as the demon settles them down on the ground, thinking that God help him, he isn’t. “No,” he says steadfastly, watching the demon’s eyes as they flicker between black and the sweetest blue. “I don’t think I am.”

 

“Is that so?” Cas whispers, flicking his tongue out like a snake. He doesn’t sound surprised, but Dean supposes he knows him better than anyone else. “Are you going to come back to me, Dean? Will you go down to the bottom of the earth where the damned dwell, live with me again? You can see our brother Samael again. He misses you too.”

 

His teeth graze the shell of Dean’s ear. “Will you _fall_ , Dean?”

 

Dean considers his words. “I won’t fall. But I will go back with you.”

 

Cas laughs as they get up on shaky legs. After all, there is still much time, and he can be patient.

 

One day, they will be the Lightbringer’s right hand men again.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this one, because i think i've confused myself. Also, Zubeneschamali is an actual star. It's better known as Beta Librae, though, and it's in the constellation Libra.


End file.
